Dangerous Blood
by mural
Summary: OMG. I've been gone for, like, ever. Summer vacation, you know? Well, probably weekly updates. Maybe. Wednesday okay? Chapter 3 now up. Things are getting a little tougher for Greg, but the night shift is there to help him. A little foreshadowing for upco
1. Chapter 1

I hope no one shoots me when they find out what I'm going to do to poor Greg. Sorry! I love him, don't worry. It's just this ideaI COULD NOT get out of my head! Oh, and I don't own em. bah.

**Chapter One: Walking Epidemic**

Greg was getting used to dead bodies. They weren't that bad. Sure they smelled a little and yes, it was a little disgusting, but that wasn't anything he couldn't handle. After all, he'd handled his suicidal sister and his drink for pleasure mother for seventeen years and hadn't even gone crazy. Well, maybe a little.  
"Greg?"  
"Huh?"  
"You can go back to your lab now."  
"Oh, ok. Thanks. See ya Doc." Doctor Robbins waved.

As he walked, he shook off the feeling he'd been getting lately. This feeling of impending doom. Paranoia, he thought. But it was still there.  
He bypassed the lab and went to the break room for some coffee. The news blared in the corner, surrounded by Warrick, Nick, Sara, and Catherine.  
"You guys should seriously watch cartoons sometimes. Nobody dies on Bugs Bunny." Sara rolled her eyes.  
"Our case is on the news."  
"Great," muttered Greg.

"_The man recently dubbed 'A walking epidemic' has struck again, this time infecting 27 year old Dana Collins, a young bartender at the Dakota Mourning Bar and Grill with the HIV/AIDS virus. No profile has yet been made._"

Greg shuddered. "That's creepy." Nick nodded. "Yeah, and they're all about the same age too, late twenties." Greg turned around, feeling the eyes on his back. It made him sick to think a guy with deadly blood was walking around Vegas, infecting young men and women and ruining their lives. He had to go home.  
"Have a nice night Greggo."  
"See ya Nick." The night was crisp, clear and Greg still had some energy. He headed for his Jeep, old and dilapidated, but still running strong, and drove to a café owned by one of his friends.

The music was soft and calm. He settled into a seat and watched a young girl singing on stage. She had nice hair, he thought to himself. He himself had quit dying his hair and left it the Hispanic brown he'd gotten from his father. It made his skin seem darker and his eyes a brighter honey-hazel color it seemed, according to a girl he'd gone on a nice date with a few days ago.  
Greg walked out if the café and headed toward his car. A smell, like cheap cologne. No warning, a sharp pain in his side. A white cloth over his eyes, the cold dark pavement of an alley. His elbows skidded against the asphalt, and he lay still, clutching his side that still ached. A boot pushed him onto his side. He didn't fight. Fatigue had gotten the best of him, and he was down.  
"Good, you don't like to fight. Me either." Greg heard a tapping noise and then felt his jacket and shirt sleeve being pushed up. "This will only hurt a minute." But it didn't hurt at all. The needle. Slid in. He felt a liquid in his arm. A little burning. Then the cloth came off. And the man was gone.

_Ooooo…Suspenseful. Sorry. Review, don't hurt!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Remembering**

Mutterings of voices, sirens. A soft hand on his face. A confident male voice. Blood. Something about blood. Something about tests. He just wanted to go home and curl up in bed. Sleep. He tried to say it, to say he needed to be at home. He blacked out.

The Sound of Grissom's voice, angry with someone. With him? Probably. It was always that way. The whisper of doctors, nurses. Catherine and Warrick sitting by him. The bruise on his ribs ached but he was lying on something soft. A bed. He was in the hospital. No, not again. No more white walls and tacky linoleum floors and that sterile, sterile smell. Of dying people. He imagined that he was leaving. Saw the doors open and everything, but he was still on the white bed with white sheets and the visitors.

When he finally dared to open his eyes, it was dark. He had a window in this room. He saw the stars and wondered where they had all gone. Of course, they were at work, where he should be, making coffee, jokes, and Sara mad but knowing she really wasn't.

Then a nurse. An older woman with a cup of water. And medicine, medicine that tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. He coughed a little, his throat was so dry. She was quiet and stony faced. She never spoke and Greg grew accustomed to her coming in every once in a while and giving him the pill. It happened three times and then Grissom came in the third time while she was giving it to him. He stopped.

"I heard you were feeling better."

"Yeah," said Greg, his throat aching with each word. Grissom sat in the chair next to him, all business now. Greg turned on his side to face him.

"Do you know what happened, Greg?" He shrugged. He thought he did, but he didn't want to. "Do you know who attacked you? What happened?" Greg heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.

"Was it him? That guy on the News. Our case. The Walking Epidemic." His voice trailed off and Grissom didn't need to say anything.

"Greg. You have AIDS."

Two days after Grissom told him, Greg decided something. He was going to live. And keep living. But sometimes it was hard when he thought of everything he'd ever learned about AIDS. Ryan White, the little boy from Indiana who died, always stood out in his mind. Would he die like that? His own blood eating him from the inside out?

"Mr. Sanders, you have a visitor." Greg felt well enough to sit up in bed lately, so he raised himself up to greet probably Sara, Warrick, or Nick or Cath.

It wasn't them. It was that girl. That girl with the hair he'd admired that night. It was still beautiful hair, a golden brown, so natural and right.

"So."

"So," Greg said back. She smiled.

"I guess you're not taking it too hard."

"What?"

"I know how you're feeling. He got me too." Greg understood now. She was a victim, like him.

"I won't let it destroy me inside. I can still keep going." She smiled again.

"You think it can never happen to you. And then it does and you think, 'Well, NOW what am I going to do?', you know? But you have it now. And you can't get rid of it."


	3. Chapter 3

_Pitiful, he thought. Just pitiful. Four days and I'm still in bed. I need to get out, get busy. My house is probably a mess. dust everywhere. Those dishes in the sink. meant to clean them ages ago..._ These thoughts crowded Greg's head as he sat up in the hospital, brooding over his bad situation. The phrase NOT FAIR may have applied, but he was being fed, he could walk, and he wasn't wearing a gown. So he couldn't really complain about living conditions. Maybe the guy next to him who forgot that he had the ability to get up and use the bathroom. The room smelled awful at night.

Sometimes he got visitors. A news crew came in once, but he feigned sleep and they went away. Sara brought him a blue vase with a balloon in it. "I didn't know if you liked flowers and I wasn;t sure what would be appropriate, so I bought a balloon." Well, okay.

Emma, the girl who'd seen him that night, came by with some chocolates once and Nick came by just to say hi. Grissom only cameonce, to be the bearer of bad news. He'd be a great doctor. He'd come out and tell the family that their mother had cancer or whatever and he wouldn't frown or cry and even apologize. He might even smile. greg comtemplated the idea of Grissom's career as a pathologist when a nurse and his landlord came in.

"You're free to go." Greg felt like a high schooler arrested on prom night.  
"Sweet." His landlord threw his bag of clothes at him and said gruffly, "Try to stay out of trouble. Oh, and your rent's due." Ass. Greg pulled on his clothes in the bathroom and was comtemplating the various methods of exiting when Nick, Warrick, and Sara came in.  
"Need a ride?" asked Warrick.  
"No, I thought I might hitchike home. Maybe helicopter back. I even thought about running the WHOLE way." He smiled. "You guys are very kind."

So his house wasn't too messy. A small layer of dust covered the counter, but that was cleanable. Sara picked up a framed picture off the side table next to the couch.  
"Who's this?"  
"Wanna here something funny? Her name's Sara. She's my little sister."  
"Didn't know you had a sister."  
"Yeah, well, this one doesn't count. She's a little crazy." He eyed the dishes in the sink, wondering what kind of bacteria may be growing between the plates. He looked at his answering machine. "For whom does the phone ring?" he said to himself. "Just enjoy messing with the stuff in my house you guys." Nick smiled.  
"Cool place."  
"It's an apartment Nick."  
"Yeah but _it's _Greg's apartment."  
"I'll alert the media." He pressed play.  
_You have 4 messages. I will play 4 new messages.  
Message 1  
"Hey Greg, it's Nicky. Dad's birthday is in a few weeks and I think you should actually buy him something this time. You know, instead of making him a rubber band ball. Anyway, call me back and let me know. Oh, and this time, don't call Mark Marky. He hates it. Love ya."  
_"Older sisters are a pain in the neck."  
"You have another sister."  
"Yeah, Nicky. She's the only successful one in the family. She's a tax attorney." Greg shrugged.  
_Message 2  
"hello Mr Snaders! We would like to inform you that you've wo-"  
_"Honestly _dont'_ care."  
_Message 3  
"Dude, it's Joey. I gotta a problem. So Amy wants to get back together, but I dunno. Should I? I feel like I'm heading towards the iceberg or whatever you caled it when I was going to ask her to marry me. I still _can't _believe I almost did that. Seriously! Anyway, I may need some sort of intervention. Like a beer or a sandwich at Sonic. Or some corny movies. Or some classic Star Wars... Or-"  
_"Joey." Greg shook his head.  
_Message 4  
Greg? It's Sara. I need to talk to you asap. Really this time, okay? Are you there? Pick up. Okay so you're not. Call me as soon as you get this. I mean it this time. I'm not just screwing around. Okay? I need you."  
_Sara looked at Greg. "You going to call her?'  
"Yeah. Yeah, I will." Nick and the others looked at eachother and then at Greg. "We'll catch you later Greg. Griss is gonna cal you and tell you when you need to come back, a'ight?" greg nodded and looked at the machine.

As the door slammed shut, the entire week suddenly caught up with Greg. His legs felt shakey and suddenly his head felt light, lighter than air. He looked arounfd and felt the edge of his vision blackening. The sleep he'd needed the night he'd been attacked never really got slept. He fell onto the couch and fell into the best sleep he'd had all week.


End file.
